If I Were Gay
by Warsh
Summary: Greg, Nick, Bar. Bad combo. SLASH, complete


THIS IS NOT MY FANFIC!

This story was written by BFcat, but she asked me to post it for her, just so ya' know

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A/N: So…this is what a person gets when they're sleep deprived, watching their brother freak out over Stephen Lynch while watching Stephen's Comedy Central Presents, and being CSI obsessed. Oh, and I also get a kick out of slash. So…yeah.

Warnings: SLASH! Nick/Greg And total crack!fic. Oh, and smarmy!Drunk!Nick, and highstrung!totally-freaking-out!Greg. ;-)

Pairings: Nick/Greg and really, really, if you _squint_ and look _real_ hard…Gil/Sara. Since I wrote this with CSIshorty in mind. And she likes that pairing (if you haven't

noticed…lol).

Disclaimer: CSI belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer (I think) and the song "If I were gay" belong to God, also known as Stephen Lynch.  
_  
_

_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

_Here we are… dear old friend_

_You and I… drunk again  
Laughs have been had  
And tears have been shed  
_

"Here's to you, Greg!" Sarah grinned, holding her glass of whiskey in the air like a trophy, "To our newest CSI!"  
"Here, here!" Greg beamed at everyone, and chugged down the whiskey.  
"To me!" In the next hour, almost everyone was crying and hugging and exclamations of, "I love you man!" and "No! I love _you_!" were heard through out. And Gil, being the smart he was, smiled, finished his glass, and got the hell out. Sarah left shortly after. Within a few more hours, the hugging was over, and Archie and Hodges were singing, "Everybody open your mouth! Everybody just say 'Ah!'" Archie grabbed the mic and drunkenly slurred, "AAaahhh!" Catherine rolled her eyes, and grabbed the two of them, dragging them to her car. She gave Greg a pat on the back, and left with, "Congratulations, Greg." Which was followed by Archie's clumsy echo of, "YEAH! Congra's!"  
"You Dumbass, you!" Hodges finished. Warrick left a little bit later, and the only two left were Nick and Greg. Nick just smiled at his friend, and raised another toast, his glass swaying.

"To you, Greggo…"

_Maybe the whiskey's gone to my head…  
But if I were gay, I would give you my heart!  
And if I were gay, you would be my work of art!  
And if I were gay, we would swim in romance!  
_

Maybe it was the lighting. Or the atmosphere. Or the sheer amount of fumes floating in the air. After all, it was a bar. Pot and cigarettes galore! But if you ever asked Nick, he couldn't give you an answer.

An answer to what?

Well…that's simple.  
An answer as to what the _hell_ convinced him that kissing Greg would be _good_ (Maybe he just wanted to look cool. Peer pressure and all. After all, Gay is _in_!). And seconds later, Greg was pushing him away, eyes wide (in a very horrified manner, I might add), as he stared at Nick. His mouth was reduced to a terrified "o".

_But I'm not gay… so get your hand out of my pants!  
It's not that I don't care, I do!  
I just don't see myself in you…  
Another time… another scene…  
I'd be right behind you, if you know what I mean!  
_

"Wha-"

"Greg I love you!" There, he said it. Greg kept staring at him, and then he nervously tugged at the collar of his shirt.

"Oh…you sure?"

"YES!" Greg winced as Nick looked absolutely _wounded_, "Greggo! You said you loved me earlier!"

"I meant in a brotherly sense!" Silence…then,

"Some brothers do things like that!" That, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call "Whiskey logic" (or at least I do).

"Oh, _EW_!" Greg kept staring, and then, "_EW!_" Nick looked hurt again, and poor Greggo had to resist the urge to just _run_, "…Okay. Okay…uhh…Listen, _buddy_." He stressed "buddy". After all, it was a very important word right now, "Man…I don't feel that way. You know? I mean, I love you!" Nick's face lit up, "But like a brother. And I mean normal brother, not hillbilly brother!" His face fell, "Sorry. I mean, you know, if I were gay, I would _totally_ be having sex with you and all…but…you know…" he shrugged, "not gay."

"But-but you're _hair_!"

"My hair?"

"It's all styled and…gay!"

"_What_?" And Nick just couldn't hold it back anymore…

…He pounced. And Greg let out a strangled yelp and fell out of his chair, Nick on top of him. Catcalls and exclamations of, "Holy hell! Queer!" were heard throughout the bar, and the young CSI was quick to jump to his feet and dragged Nick up, nervously laughing.

"He's drunk, that's it." He noticed the glares, and added, somewhat desperately, "We're not gay!"

"I LOVE you, Greggo! LOVE! YOU! FOREVER! AND EVER! AND EVER! LOVE! You're my _soul mate_, man!" more glares, an impending sense of doom…

"Thank you, Nick…" he grumbled. Ignoring the evil looks he was getting from the uhh… "more macho" patrons of the bar, he grabbed his friend (Nothing more!...Honest…!) and left the bar.

_Cause if I were gay I would give you my sou!l  
And if I were gay I would give you my (w)hole... being!  
And if I were gay we would tear down the walls!  
…But I'm not gay, so won't you stop cupping my b-_hands_…_

No Taxi would answer Greg's flag. None. Maybe it was because of how young he looked. Or the fact that they somehow knew he worked in law enforcement (Those silly illegal immigrants!).

…Of course, it could also be because of the drunk latched onto to him like a leech. Literally. He was sucking. Greg pried Nick off of him, pulling back from the vice hug.

"Seriously, man! _Stop_!" Again, the Texan looked like someone kicked his puppy.

"You…you don't feel the same? You don't feel it? The pull between us, the _love_? I mean, all of those rock signs between us, those 'Guess that component' games, they meant _nothing_ to you?" Greg let out a groan and ran a hand through his "gay" hair.

"I-I-gah! We're friends!" he frantically pointed between the two of them, "You! Me! Friends! I mean, if I were…that way. You know, I'd totally feel the same way! I mean…you're good looking, and smart, and funny, and," boy was this awkward, "all tons of other great…stuff. But I'm not wired that way! You're my best friend, but that's it!"

"We could be more!"

"Yes, we could! But we aren't. And we never will be! We're, you know, 'BFF'! I'll-I'll even get the rings and everything!" Greg resolutely refused to notice the small group of people staring at them.

"Rings? Like…wedding rings? Promise rings?" Nick's eyes lit up, a giddy smile on his face, "Commitment rings?" the group got bigger.

"No! Umm…_bracelets_! We'll get those little Best friends bracelets! Or something! Just…" Greg slapped Nick's hand away from his…well, you know, "Stop! Okay, no Taxi's going to stop for us if you keep _molesting _me!"

"But I like how you feel!"

"Oh Jesus Christ, Nick! No! I'm not gay. If I were, we'd totally screwing like bunnies in that alley back there," he glared at the excited Texan, "Which we won't be doing." And then he turned his look to the small crowd around them, "We aren't a Vegas show, damn it! Get! Shoo! Go do…touristy things!"

"Like wha-"

"I hear the strip is nice, now go!" he was ten seconds from pulling his gun (he was high strung, damn it!) when the crowd finally dispersed. The two stood there in silence, and then,  
"You seem stressed."

"_Really_?" Greg snapped.  
"…I know a great massage…"

"Oh for the love of-" a deep sigh, "I'm never getting drunk with you again."

_We've never hugged!  
We've never kissed!  
I've never been intimate… with your fist!  
But you have opened… brand new doors!  
Get over here and… drop… your… drawers!_

"But I _love_ you!"

"Yeah, I'm getting that."

"So why can't we…you know…go into that alley?"

"Because we'd get _mugged_, for one. And everyone would see us, for two. And I don't want to, for three!"

"Please?"

"_No_!"

"…But Greggo…" he started swirling little circles on Greg's chest, "You've been flirty with me."

"Flirty?"

"Mm-hmm. You didn't think I'd catch it, did you? But you have. Don't deny it."

"We've never even hugged!" Nick solemnly nodded.

"Yes we have. Fifty three times now, I've counted."

"…That's kind of creepy. Sweet…but creepy." Nick just smiled, a nice, quaint little, "I'm totally plastered off my ass" smile.

It was kind of endearing.

Oh hell.

Greg sighed. A deep, mournful sigh.

"I'm going there."

"Going where?"

"To all sorts of different layers of hell. Taking advantage of your drunk best friend, has to be right up there with 'making fun of retards'."

"But I love you."

"We'll see what you're story'll be tomorrow morning." And Greg grabbed him, and mashed their lips together.  
Nick couldn't believe his luck!  
Greg couldn't believe what the hell he was doing!  
Stephen Lynch couldn't believe the great song material he just saw! Vegas was _awesome_!  
The next morning, Stephen Lynch started writing that song, and the two CSIs both woke up in the same, messy bed. (To which Greg once again muttered, when he woke up, "A definite, special hell. Nick's going to kill me…" to which he got a reply of, "Apparently you're gayer than you think.")

All in all, it was an…_interesting_ inauguration into the CSI field. But hey…the work was a hoot, right? Why not the celebration?

A/N: I dedicate this to you (CSIshorty), man! XD Holy fucking hell, did I just write slash? Well…it was a crack!fic. So whatever. :P


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